


Still Life

by Latios



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akira thirsts: the fic, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Ideally i wrote them as a little older in this but it's not mentioned, M/M, Ryuji thirdwheels Real Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latios/pseuds/Latios
Summary: Akira needs moral support attending an art class to get to know the teacher better. Ryuji needs a new best friend.





	Still Life

“No,” Ryuji says firmly, already backing up from the ever-so-rapidly approaching Akira and shaking his head, trying to save himself from this situation as fast as possible. “Absolutely not. I am _not_ going to an _art show_ on my only day off this week, no way. Not so you can drool over the—” 

“Art _class_ ,” Akira interrupts, kindly correcting him. He’s smiling, now, and Ryuji doesn’t like the look in his eyes, or where this is going. “And I won’t be drooling over him, I just.” His mouth tilts into a soft smile. “I want to get to know him, you know? This seems like the easiest way.”

“Uh-huh,” Ryuji replies, unconvinced, and still hoping for a way out of this. It’s never too late to change best friends, right? Akira pouts in front of him, trying a different approach.

“You don’t have to draw _good_ or anything. I just want you there for backup. I was there when you tried to woo the girl in Leblanc, remember? The pretty girl with the—”

“Yeah, well, she didn’t call me back, so it doesn’t count as a favour back to you!” he says, trying to go for gruff while crossing his arms and turning away, but finds his heart failing to go through with the rough rebuttal when he sees the look on Akira’s face.

It’s the one where his eyes lower to the ground and he doesn’t say it, but everyone knows he’s unhappy--or at least slightly bothered. It’s the face they collectively as group have a goal to get him to never make ever.

 _Don’t do it,_ he tells himself. _Your Sunday gaming plans? Out the window if you say yes to this._ If it goes horribly wrong, he’s going to want to do something fun after, like the arcade and Big Bang Burger. If it goes well, well… 

Well, then, he’d be fine, he would have just… wasted two hours. _But is it really a waste if it makes Akira happy? Akira has done uncomfortable things for me several times,_ his guilty conscience pushes. He taps his feet.

Akira looks like he’s going to say something, wave it off and pretend it didn’t matter, maybe--and Ryuji caves. He’s always been a total softie--the first sign of his best friend in distress, the air he’d been puffing himself up with leaves him fast like a popped balloon.

“Alright! I get it. I know you’ve helped me before, even if it didn’t work out. Fine.” He squints. _I can draw great, too, thank you very much._ “It’s just one class, right…? I guess I can come.” 

_Goodbye, sunday gaming._

Akira smiles brightly, making his dramatic, sorrowed thoughts a little harder to follow through on. “That’s all I need. You’re the best.”

Ryuji huffs. He’s at least happy if this’ll make Akira happy. The least he can do is attend a small art gathering so Akira doesn’t feel as alone while approaching someone.

He smiles tiredly. “...Yeah, I know. But _you_ need to get my art supplies, and whatever else I need. They charge for those events, right? You’re paying for my ticket!” he demands, listing off his only remaining qualms, as Akira nods to them all, grin only stretching wider. 

Ryuji sighs, and can’t help but smile when he sees Akira ramble on about their plans.

~

They enter the studio room on a fine sunday afternoon. It’s dark, and just a little too dusty, with only a soft classical hum of music playing from the nearby radio perched on a bench. College age and older seem to pour in, but even when the room is full of easels, there only seems to be about ten people other than them.

Ryuji is already bored.

 _“Go to the art class. It’s not that hard, you don’t have to do that much,”_ Ryuji mumbles, mocking Akira in a low voice, setting his bag down on the floor beside the stool in the studio they were in. “Didn’t have the guts to speak at Leblanc in front of Sojiro, attend his class instead, it’ll be perfect,” he continues.

The people here are all quiet, and look relatively serious. At least they aren’t paying attention to him or Akira, so it’s not like he’s super worried. He’s mostly bummed there isn’t any super cute girls he can chat up while he’s trying get through the next two hours.

Akira elbows him. “Can you stop muttering? You’re already here, so help me do this,” he begs, setting his own sketchbook onto the easel, placing his bag gently on the floor. A few more people start to pile in, but it’s still not too bad, yet. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to take it if this is a nude modelling class, though.

“Help you what,” he states, almost horrified. Akira better be talking about his still life painting. “You can flirt just fine yourself, can’t you?” They were _not_ going about this like they did in high school, one of them making a scene so the other could get away with breaking and entering into classrooms to retrieve their taken phones. He really hopes Akira doesn’t want him to have any bigger part in this other than sitting down and making a nice picture he could possibly gift to his mother. 

“Better than your flirting, at least.” Akira teases, rolling his eyes.

Ryuji scoffs and jabs him back. “Dick,” he laughs, but Akira still looks around quite solemnly.

“Yeah, yeah. I just need you as support today, okay?” he clarifies.

“As in…”

“As in,” Akira starts. “If I horribly embarrass myself, you need to fake your appendix bursting for the third time,” he says, a little too seriously.

Ryuji snorts. “Okay, got it. So where is—”

Just then, Akira’s eyes go somewhere behind him, and his posture stiffens up like ice, staring just over his shoulder with panic. Ryuji turns.

And _oh,_ now he gets the fuss.

The supposed art teacher is young and tall, graceful in posture, and exactly Akira’s type. Dark, straight swooping hair, and a barely-there smile as he talks to another fellow student, emitting a short laugh following her words. His voice is deep, and his eyes are pretty. A nice colour.

He looks back to Akira with a raised brow, who stares onward and past him, hopelessly crushing from the looks of it.

“ _That’s_ him?” Ryuji asks. He doesn’t look super out of Akira’s league or anything, but his looks are... intimidating. He knows nothing about the man, but he knows Akira isn’t just about a pretty face, so there has to be something else his friend sees in the guy. As for the idea of them dating— Akira is hard to dislike, even for his biggest rival back in school, so... his chances could win out here. He’ll just have to keep observing the dude.

“That’s him,” Akira confirms, and follows the artist around with his eyes. “He’s so pretty. Do you think he’d tolerate having Morgana around?”

 _As in, when you live together?_ he wonders. He watches Akira look to the man like a puppy waiting to be given attention. 

“You’re… kind of hopeless, aren’t you?” Ryuji asks, eyeing him warily. 

“Yes,” Akira whines, and the teacher—Yusuke Kitagawa, apparently—begins to talk.

Ryuji sighs. This is going to be a _long_ class.

~

Kitagawa only comes around their easels for the first time about half an hour in, staring appreciatively at their art.

“I like the method you used here,” Kitagawa says into his ear, way too close for comfort. Ryuji tries not to jump back, as the man trails his fingers across the graphite on Ryuji’s page lightly, appreciative—not enough to smudge. “It’s amateur work for certain, but very promising. Your sense of style works out for this image, and you’ve put a lot of thought into the placement and shading, it seems.” Kitagawa nods, seemingly pleased. “I see a sense of rebellion in the lines, with those abrupt angles and blocky figures. How interesting!”

“It’s a fruit bowl,” Ryuji says, lamely.

Kitagawa snorts, a quiet noise accompanied by a small, pleased, smile. “Indeed it is. However, if I might make a suggestion, you could probably go a little darker with contrast. You seem to prefer bold strokes and deep shading, but don’t go all the way. What graphite are you using? You could—”

Just then, a bunch of pens spill all over Ryuji’s ankles. He just barely avoids jumping, while Kitagawa blinks at the scene, following the trail on the floor up to Akira, the doe-eyed perpetrator.

With a single plastic cup in his hand, empty and turned sideways. 

“I’m so sorry,” Akira says, looking truly apologetic while leaning down to gather the pens he most definitely meant to drop. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, continue.”

Kitagawa’s eyes seem to widen, attention grabbed by Akira now, who has finished tidying his pencils back into the cup. “Oh!” he exclaims softly. “You’re the barista from Leblanc, right? I wondered if I’d see you here sometime.”

“Ah, my name is Akira.” Akira smiles with a nod, playing with the tips of his hair shyly. He still sounds collected, despite his earlier problem. “So you remember me, then.”

Kitagawa nods. “Of course. How could I forget? You were very enthusiastic about my sketches, and had nothing but kind words for each one.”

Akira smiles. “They were wonderful. How could I not be impressed? I’ve never seen a style like yours before, I was completely entranced.”

 _Oh, you were entranced by something,_ Ryuji thinks sourly, highly doubting it was Kitagawa’s art. 

His artwork is amazing, not to be misunderstood. But he knows Akira, _has_ known him for five years now—and he’s never been so taken with _art_ until the monday prior.

“You’re too kind. Thank you,” Kitagawa says, sounding quite genuine, at least. He looks over to Akira’s easel, their greeting over, and seemingly interested in getting back to work.

“Now then, let’s see what you have here…” he trails, holding his chin in his hands, making the occasional small noise as he takes in Akira’s piece.

“Well,” Kitagawa starts. “You have a nice method. Your lines get a little hasty over to the left here, so the fruit on the other side isn’t as balanced, line-wise. Nothing an eraser can’t fix, though. Or draw the lines heavier to the left, instead, since that seems to be what you’re going for.” he suggests.

“Oh...sorry, I didn’t notice.” Akira blinks. “I must’ve been distracted.”

Ryuji continues his own drawing wordlessly, choosing not to comment.

“Yes, well. It happens to the best of us. Art is never perfected in one day, and in time, I’m sure you’ll be able to spot these kind of things yourself.” Kitagawa smiles. “It’s all about practice. And focus—that’ll come easier in time, too.”

Akira nods. “Hopefully, you can teach me more within this class. Your lesson has been wonderful so far.”

Ryuji stifles a laugh, and Akira’s leg shoots over to him as he steps on Ryuji’s foot. Ryuji bites his tongue, holding that sound in as to not disrupt the conversation at hand.

“I’m glad you think so. I’m certain I’ll be able to teach you more by the end of this class,” Kitagawa says, continuing on to the next person.

“Really looking forward to it,” Akira says, almost a purr towards Kitagawa, grinding his foot into Ryuji’s even harder now—a warning. 

Kitagawa simply smiles, and makes his way to the others.

When Kitagawa is gone, Akira sighs and pushes his forehead onto the easel, pulling his feet back into his own personal bubble. “He didn’t even notice me, Ryuji. See? This is so hard. Maybe I should just give up.”

“When have you ever given up on something?” Ryuji says, looking at his dirtied and dented shoe—and foot, with a grimace. “Can you go lighter on the stomping next time? These were new, and my feet hurt.”

“Don’t laugh at me, then.” Akira pouts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji grumbles. “I don’t really get it, if I’m honest. He’s handsome, but he seems a little wack. An oddball. Did you see him? He has no idea of personal space, and he’s way too eccentric about fruit.”

“He’s not eccentric,” Akira shuts down quickly, but not unkindly. His shoulders slump forward, and he smiles, voice soft. “He’s... quirky. And really cute,” Akira says, much too dreamy, like some crushing schoolgirl.

Ryuji sighs, very tired at only forty minutes in. “You really want to get with this guy, huh.”

“I want to buy him dinner. Maybe go to the movies sometime.” Akira stares after him, eyes longing. “He said he likes lobster. Do you think he’d be willing to go to dinner if I offered that?”

“I think you need to chill out. Where’d your rational sense go?”

“All over the floor with the pencils when he wouldn’t look at me.” Akira frowns.

Ryuji laughs, and dodges Akira’s foot this time.

~

The next time Kitagawa comes around is when Akira seems to get really desperate. And like, he didn’t think it could get worse than before, but it does.

“This looks great, Akira,” Kitagawa says, and then frowns quickly. “Ah, my apologies. Is it alright if I call you that? You didn’t give me your surname.”

“You can call me whatever you like,” Akira says, much too seriously. A few people look his way with odd expressions, including Ryuji, but Kitagawa smiles wide, the weirdo, and carries on.

“Right. Perfect then! Akira—the only suggestion I have here is to shade a little deeper—don’t hold the graphite that way, tilt it on it’s side to get a smoother outcome in the color.”

“Show me?” Akira says, waving his lead covered hand around for Kitagawa to take, a dare in his eyes. 

Kitagawa isn’t going to agree. He is NOT going to agree to Akira being absurd and his wild requests, Ryuji is sure that—

“Excellent idea!” Kitagawa says, grinning and going for the bait while grabbing Akira’s hand from behind, tracing his hand over the underside of an apple sketch to get the desired outcome he wants to convey.

Ryuji doesn’t know why he’s even trying to make sense of his friend or the guy he likes anymore. Clearly, Akira is into this weirdo, and they’re a match made in heaven, as Kitagawa seems to follow along with Akira’s whims. But Akira never acted like this when they were alone, so maybe he’s trying to mimic the guy? Who knows. 

Ryuji doesn’t. He’s mostly scared, right now. In need of a new best friend, maybe.

Akira doesn’t stop staring at Kitagawa’s face the entire time, as if he could get any more obvious.

“See? This way, the graphite fills the paper the way it’s supposed to, and while I wouldn’t suggest it, you can smudge it across if you need more of a gradient effect,” Kitagawa instructs.

“Uh-huh,” Akira agrees, staring at the instructor still, instead of what Kitagawa is directing him to look at. Kitagawa seems to catch on, and looks to Akira, who is smiling dumbly his way. Kitagawa smiles back, not seeming to understand what is happening.

Ryuji blinks for a moment too long, looking away from the trainwreck that is his friends’ love life. 

Akira is like dumb puppy, but Kitagawa is like, an even dumber puppy who doesn’t know what a hint is, and now the both of them are just staring goofily at each other in the middle of this art class.

Ryuji wants to gag. He wants to gag, and then die, so he can leave this place. Why did he agree to this?

He prays to the world for answers, but finds no sign of reply.

Before he’s totally given up on life, Kitagawa moves away, hesitantly. “Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m sure you know the proper method now. Are you fine to continue on your own?”

“Yeah,” Akira replies, all grins. Kitagawa nods, and takes his hands away, moving down the aisle to other students.

Akira turns to him, eyes bright. “Did you see that?!” he asks. 

“Unfortunately,” Ryuji replies, still feeling second-hand embarrassment flood his senses like the smell of oil paints floating throughout the room. “What’s your goal, anyway? I thought you were trying to get with him, but you’re… going about it oddly,” he says, hovering instead of getting to the point, yet still pushing the boundaries times fifty.

Akira’s still smiling. “Not sure,” he says. “Trying to go at Kitagawa’s pace. He’s different. I like that in a man.”

“You like a lot of things about men.”

“Not anymore,” Akira says, shaking his head. “I like one man. That one.” He points discreetly, as if it needs to be clarified.

“You’re ridiculous,” Ryuji says, hushed. “Just get his number so we can scram!”

“Uh-huh,” Akira says, watching him once again at the front of the class, waiting for time to pass by finishing his painting.

Ryuji knows it’s pointless to continue speaking—Akira’s already lost track of reality. Ryuji sighs, and tells himself to hold strong.

Just another forty five minutes, he tells himself.

~

They finish their third set of drawings in the last eight minutes of class. They’d done the five minute studies, the ten minute, fifteen minute ones, and listened to Kitagawa talk for most of the rest of it. He doesn’t have any paintings done like he thought, but he could at least send the pictures of the sketches to his mom anyway. She might think they’re cool or something. At least she’ll know he’s staying out of trouble, and trying art of all things.

But when he’s done packing up, he sees Akira’s seat is empty. His eyes trail across the room, and of course, he’s talking with Kitagawa as people begin to leave. He can just barely hear their conversation.

“Yeah, well, my friend doesn’t need to leave in a hurry, so I can stay behind and help you clean the place up, if you’d like.”

_Damn it, Akira._

“Oh! Well, if you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure,” Akira says, practically batting his eyelashes. “What would you like me to do first?”

“Hm,” Kitagawa says, grabbing his chin and scanning the room. “Well, you’d help me quite a bit if you could put the spare easels back folded to the side of the room.”

“Done.” Akira says with a smile, and leaves him momentarily to do as he offered. That’s when Ryuji feels it’s safe to come in close, only to whisper to Akira, sending looks back to Yusuke halfway across the room.

“Uh, dude? What are you doing.”

“What does it look like?” Akira says, folding an easel and smiling. “This is the perfect time to approach him, yeah?”

“Yeah, but…” Ryuji groans. “You’re just doing his chores, man.”

“Yes. At this moment, I am helping him out,” Akira says, folding more of the easels and putting them aside. Ryuji begrudgingly helps as they speak. “But after I’m done getting these out of the way, I can ask about his plans later. Or his number.”

“Do you even know if he’s single?” Ryuji asks, practically tossing two easels into their spot. Akira frowns at him.

“Don’t be so careless. And yeah, I’m almost certain he is. When I asked him about a girl he sketches a lot—if it was his girlfriend—he said he had ‘nothing of the sort.’”

“Yeah, it’s _sounding_ like you could’ve asked him out over coffee at this rate, if you were willing to ask that much. Was me coming here really necessary?”

“Of course,” Akira says, folding the last easel against the wall. “You were a perfect support, Ryuji.”

He walks with Ryuji back to the center of the room and admires the painting Kitagawa had been painting for a moment with a sigh. It’s some extravagant work—Ryuji knows nothing about colors or perspective and all that, but this is… really eye catching. The contrast of light and dark colors, bright reds and blues and black all melting together around a light source--it’s really interesting. 

Akira sighs dreamily, which isn’t exactly the way he feels about this piece—it doesn’t look very soothing, in fact, it looks kind of… dark. 

“He’s so talented and handsome. This sucks.” Akira picks up the palette thrown to the side, briefly looking for Kitagawa, who seemed to have disappeared. He shrugs, and walks over to the sink with it, probably to wash it. “He said he was struggling with art lately—I guess there’s this show he wants to put his art into, but has been blocked lately.” Akira frowns. “Wish he’d have more confidence in himself. His work looks good. Maybe I could drag him out somewhere to get inspired?”

Ryuji sighs. It certainly was a trait of Akira’s to get involved in business he shouldn’t be, but Ryuji could hear the clear interest in his voice. Just to help the guy--it didn’t even sound like he was thinking just to score a date with him. “You _really_ like this guy, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Akira frowns, swiping off paint under a hot sink. “I’m just, nervous is all. He has an interest in art, and he smiles and responds so much to me. I’m wondering if he just does that for everyone, though.” He sighs.

“Dude,” Ryuji says, “Why don’t you tell him that instead of me? Don’t back out now! He seems like he’s just got another billion things on his mind—kind of dense, too. Just tell him flat out.”

Akira laughs, drying the board off. He leans against the sink, a small smile coming back. “You think?”

“Yes!” Ryuji says, now frustrated with his friend, tossing his hands up. “When have you ever given up this soon? Just tell him what you told me. And worst case scenario, he might not be interested, but you’re one hell of a friend, and he’d be stupid if he turned you down for that.”

Akira smiles. “Ryuji, you’re the best.”

“Yeah man, I know.” Ryuji huffs.

“Do you think—”

Just then, they’re cut off by Kitagawa coming back into the room. Akira smiles at Ryuji before taking off towards Kitagawa—Yusuke. He might as well just call him Yusuke in his head if they’re going to see so much of each other.

Akira’s next to Yusuke now, and Ryuji rolls his eyes fondly, waiting on the sidelines.

They exchange a few words for a minute, and Yusuke is grinning until his eyes fall down to Akira’s hands, holding the cleaned palette.

“Oh— this. This wouldn’t happen to be my paint palette, would it?” 

“Uh,” Akira says, looking to it. “If you meant the one you left in front of the room—yeah, I cleaned it for you. Is that okay?” He asks.

Yusuke holds his eyes for a moments, mouth slightly parted, and blinks, a lot of strange looks going over his face in a moment’s notice.

Akira looks on, wide-eyed. “Yusuke…?”

“It’s nothing,” Yusuke says, coming back to himself, and taking the palette from him. “It’s just, I needed the paints that were on here for the rest of the painting…” he looks on between the board in his hand and the painting held up in the middle of the room. 

Akira and Ryuji freeze.

“I’m. Hmm. I’m not sure how I’ll mix those exact colours again.” Yusuke says, brows furrowing. He doesn’t even look at Akira.

“Yusuke,” Akira says, looking worried. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve asked you first…”

Yusuke is still frowning, but looks Akira’s way. “Well, this is a slight catastrophe, but I’m sure you meant no harm. You were simply trying to help me; I shouldn’t have left it lying around.”

“But still…” Ryuji has never seen something hit the fan so fast. Akira is downcast, and Yusuke still looks like he’s trying to salvage the situation by looking at the canvas and his palette, while also trying to placate Akira with small reassurances, hesitant at best—he did seem troubled, but not enough to warrant yelling at Akira.

“How can I make it up to you?” Akira asks, still sounding downtrodden. “Those were probably pretty expensive, too...”

“Hm? Oh yes, they were. Art supplies can become very pricey, especially oil paints in large quantities,” Yusuke replies rather honestly. Akira seems to wilt under that answer, before perking up just slightly.

Ryuji squints, his worry coming back.

“Well, you do like food, right? How about this—if you come to Leblanc again on my shifts, I’ll get your meal and coffee for free for a month. Does that sound fine?”

Yusuke looks quite surprised, pulling his hand off his chin. “Well, I love the food and coffee you make, but I couldn’t ask that of you. It was an accident after all.”

“All the more reason,” Akira blurts, suddenly confident. “I’m really close with the owner. He won’t mind if I ask him,” Akira insists, getting much closer to Yusuke. “I really didn’t mean to do that, Yusuke. I’m sorry.”

Yusuke smiles. “You’re kind, Akira. Thank you. Your persistence is hard to turn down.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Akira says, smiling softly. “I’m on shift a lot, but maybe I could get your number? We could text when you’re available…”

Unbelievable.

Yusuke nods, considering. “Very well. I think it’s a fine idea, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better. I don’t feed myself very well either, so it would be both a chance to see you again, and get away from work for a while. It sounds lovely.”

Ryuji can pin the moment an arrow strikes through Akira’s heart.

“Yes! Yes of course, I’m glad… I don’t want you to hate me.”

“Nonsense.” Yusuke waves the plate around. “This is troublesome, but I’ve endured worst. I can mix similar enough colours up within a few hours, I’m sure. Thank you for your offer, Akira.”

Akira beams at him. “Of course.” And then, they exchange numbers.

“Although,” Yusuke starts, after inputting the number. “Curry for thirty days straight might be a bit tiresome. Perhaps we could go somewhere else for dinner sometime, just the two of us?” He smiles, and gives Akira a small wave, leaving Akira frozen in the middle of the room.

Yusuke starts to pack up his main supplies and informs them of the time, implying how late they have stayed. Ryuji packs their stuff as Akira finishes his conversation with Yusuke, and they say their farewells, Akira wordlessly taking his bag from Ryuji and remaining silent until they’re at the bottom of the staircase outside the studio.

“Dude…” Ryuji says. “Did you mean to do that?”

“No, I didn’t,” Akira finally says, affirming he was just naturally charming, even when he messed up. Akira turns to him with red tinged cheeks. “Ryuji, did I just get a date with Yusuke?”

“Kinda,” Ryuji agrees, shrugging. He scratches the back of his neck. “I think he was mad, but probably less at you, I’d say… I wouldn’t agree to having someone cook for me for free for a month if I didn’t want them around, and then offer to go other places with them, so...” Well, he might. He likes food. Still, Akira looks like he needed a bit of reassurance and space, and Ryuji’s happy to tell him the truth. Yusuke looked pretty happy after Akira had exchanged plans with him, eyes twinkling, like when he painted for show earlier at the head of the class.

But well, he won’t get too into the mushy stuff. Ryuji isn’t super sure if he has a good enough eye for that, but he has a feeling. “I think he might like you too, you know.”

“You think?” Akira says, smiling a bit incredulously with hands on his cheeks. His eyes are wide. “I’ve never gotten gotten this far before. I didn’t think I would with him—oh. What do I do?” he asks, not so much of a question, but rather a statement to the world, or himself it seemed. He sounds almost desperate when he asks, “Ryuji, help.”

Ryuji puts his hands up. “I helped enough. You’re on your own for this,” he says quickly, tapping out. No more romantic adventures for him—not the ones that aren’t his, anyway. 

“Ryuji,” Akira starts, sounding horribly sad. “Come on.”

“No more!” Ryuji laughs. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m glad for you?”

Akira’s grin is bright in response. “Yeah, me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> The working title was "Akira Thirsts his Quench" which was rlly on point with the message here but alas I needed to change it. This was based off one of my teachers' experiences, and I thought his story would have fit these two well if i altered the scenerio lol. The only thing here that actually happened at the art class was the paint palette part, which was... probably horrifying to witness irl LMAO
> 
> It was supposed to be shorter but oh well djgjfg I hope you guys liked it! It was fun to write Akira a little differently haha <3


End file.
